


Completely Inappropriate

by glim



Series: white city [1]
Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:50:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU set in an American university, in which Arthur teaches freshman comp, Merlin spills coffee, and they both spend too much time in Arthur's office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Completely Inappropriate

His first semester at Villa Alba University - his first semester anywhere after getting his dissertation done and graduating during the fall semester - Arthur taught three sections of freshman writing and one of British Literature II. Which, he thought, was incredibly _convenient_, given that his dissertation had been on the use of disguise in seventeenth century and Restoration comedy. The prospect of teaching writing to students who'd managed not to learn how to do so during the fall semester filled him with a sense of impending doom; the prospect of teaching Wordsworth to anyone (including himself, given that he hadn't read anything written during the nineteenth century since his own sophomore year of college) was plain, simple, unadulterated doom.

"I'm doomed."

"Look, it can't be that bad," Morgana had replied when Arthur tried talking to her before the first day of classes. "Is it as bad as when you were teaching two classes of tech writing because they were the only courses available, and trying to finish your dissertation, hadn't done laundry in four weeks and had two conference papers to prepare? Oh, and your girlfriend was threatening to leave you for somebody who didn't cook pasta for dinner three nights per week?"

"Well..."

"There. _See_."

"No, I don't, but thanks for the reassurance." Arthur didn't bother to point out his last semester writing his diss hadn't been like that at all, especially the part about the dirty laundry and the girlfriend. Because, contrary to what Morgana would say, Arthur wasn't a complete fool and, despite the miles and cell phone line that separated them, what he could see was that Morgana's eyes had the same slightly manic gleam that they'd had at MLA a few weeks ago. "By the way, how is your dissertation going?"

Morgana was silent for a moment. "We're not talking about it this week."

"Ah. Well, tell Gwen I said hello, remind her that pasta is nutritious, and I'll see you at the ASECS conference in a couple months."

Morgana replied with a slightly manic laugh to match the cell-phone-defying gleam in her eyes before she hung up.

At least the English department was giving him a TA to help with the severely over-enrolled Brit Lit II course. He should be grateful for that, Arthur thought, leaning against the kitchen counter, eating his quiet dinner of pizza and beer among the still unpacked boxes in his apartment.

+++

"Arthur! Arthur, so sorry I'm late, I forgot we had a meeting since we didn't have class today and then I spilled-"

"We had a conversation about knocking, I recall."

"Right, yeah. Sorry."

A knock, then what sounded like a cascade of papers and folders onto his office floor, and Arthur turned from his computer to see his TA standing in front of the door, surrounded by unstapled mid-term exams, with volume 3 of the Middle English Dictionary and a coffee cup held to his chest.

_That_ was the great gift the English department had given him.

"Christ, Merlin. Can you get through one day without a grand display of idiodicy? And weren't those supposed to be stapled?" Arthur waved at the pile of exams and stood to take the MED volume from Merlin before that ended up on his office floor, too, spine broken and pages torn.

"Uh, yeah, but, I think? The photocopier? It ran out of staples, and the secretary won't let me try to replace them anymore after what happened last time."

"What - wait. No. Please, don't tell me. I'd like to preserve the last shred of faith I have that you actually know what you're doing."

Merlin looked up from where he was gathering papers on the floor and smiled his open, crooked smile at Arthur. His dark hair was rumpled, either from the March wind or because he'd forgotten to comb it, and underneath a worn, brown corduroy jacket he wore a blue plaid shirt that Arthur could tell he'd buttoned up the wrong way that morning. Or whenever he'd gotten dressed. Sometimes Arthur suspected he showed up on campus in some outfit he'd put on the day before and forgot to change out of while he was up all night working into the next morning. He might be wrong about the clothes, but Arthur knew he was right about Merlin staying up through the night. Whenever Merlin came in that disheveled, his eyes a little bleary and pink around the rims, and Arthur asked if he'd slept, he'd stutter out a 'yes' and the ends of his rather prominent ears would flush a deeper shade of pink. And Arthur would just nod, make coffee for the both of them in his office, and say a silent prayer to whatever gods looked over the English department that his own Teaching Assistant wouldn't fall asleep in the middle of his class.

"I get by all right on my own. You do realize I survived three semesters before you got here, right?" Merlin dumped the papers on Arthur's desk, got rid of the empty coffee cup, and shoved a few more papers into the back of the absurdly huge MED volume he was carrying around that day.

"Yes, well, you weren't my TA for any of those semesters, so the expectations have risen, I should think. This... must be the answer key you started." Arthur frowned at an ink-covered sheet of paper. Green ink. An explosion of green ink, like a Rorschach test, only damper and messier. "I'm not sure you got to the actual answer part of it, though..."

"I don't think I'll be using that pen again."

"Wise move. And this copy is... is _covered in coffee_? Merlin."

"Sorry. I tried to tell you I spilled something."

"You don't even drink coffee of your own volition." Arthur placed the two unusable copies of the exam in the bin by his desk and pulled two more clean ones from the untidy pile Merlin had made of them.

"No, I know. I'd already had tea before my pen started leaking. The coffee was supposed to be for you."

Arthur's hand stilled on the exam copy he was pushing towards Merlin. The tips of Merlin's fingers were stained with green ink and he was fidgeting with the pen he had in his hand now, and, not for the first time, Arthur noticed how pale and slim his fingers were and caught himself wondering how careful and strong they must be when Merlin wasn't doing things like destroying pens and covering exams in coffee.

"I do tend to prefer it in a cup, rather than on my work, but, thank you." Arthur slid the exam over to Merlin, close enough that their hands touched for a brief moment, and he smiled at the way Merlin ducked his head and a faint blush touched the tips of his ears. "Now. This Wordsworth was ridiculous, wasn't it?"

"I like the Romantic poets..."

"You would. All right, then, you tell me how you think the essay on _Tintern Abbey_ ought to be answered."

Arthur settled into his chair and watched Merlin flush again, becomingly, and smile that open smile that fit him so well and appeared so fully when he started talking about the literature he liked best. As long as Merlin talked, Arthur took notes, and had a decent guide for how they'd be grading that section of the mid-term by the time Merlin was done.

No, not merely decent. More than decent. Arthur flicked through the rest of the exam and made notes during their whole conversation. After all, he really wasn't a fool, and nor was he an ingrate.

+++

Merlin's first semester in grad school had started with his boyfriend of three years breaking up with him over email and then refusing to talk to him or return any of Merlin's belongings. He spent most of the next four months wallowing and convinced himself that having an utterly, completely, irrefutably miserable first semester meant that the rest couldn't be much worse than this one. Taking a seminar on Thomas Hardy's Greatest and Most Depressing Hits, a course that had been masquerading as the Victorian Novel in the guide to classes, had helped matters along the path of utter misery. By the end of the semester, Merlin had taught his first class, had written three good seminar papers, and had wallowed himself to the point where he was tired of himself already.

He met Will at a Grad Student Association movie night the next semester and started sleeping with him a couple weeks later. And although they were never a proper couple, at least they had important conversations in person and Will was never enough of an asshole to take Merlin's things or to forget to say goodbye. The day before Will left the August after his graduation to do a phd in urban planning in Chicago, Merlin cooked him dinner and brought over a couple bottles of wine that could almost be called expensive. They had sex twice that night, then in the morning before Merlin drove Will to the airport, and Merlin found himself too proud of one of his best friends to spend another semester feeling sorry for himself.

Besides, he liked grad school. He liked going to seminar and talking about literature for a few hours with people who were as interested in most of the subject matter as he was. Merlin even enjoyed the hours he spent sequestered in the stacks or bound periodicals section of the library doing research. He liked going out for drinks with his friends from the department, and the people he knew through the GSA.

What Merlin liked best, what he loved, was teaching. He loved watching his freshman comp students realize they were good writers and that their thoughts about the books they read and the movies they watched were interesting and valuable. When he got offered the job to TA a class in a field close to his Master's thesis work instead of another freshman writing class, Merlin had been more than pleased.

It was a while before Merlin could actually say he liked Arthur. The first time they met, he assumed Merlin was one of his students, handed him an English 1 syllabus, and sent Merlin on his way with a warning to come by next time during his scheduled office hours. When he finally realized Merlin was his teaching assistant, Arthur became a rude and demanding prat, at least until he noticed Merlin wasn't a completely lazy idiot type. By the time that happened, Merlin had realized, in turn, that Arthur cared more about his students than he let on and each of the one hundred and fifty-seven papers he had to grade got returned with detailed, personalized comments.

Merlin had tried calling Arthur 'Dr. Pendragon' for a few days, but that had resulted in him calling Merlin 'Mr. Emrys.' It had been a very awkward week and Merlin had been glad to see it end. Come Monday, they went out for sushi to prep for class that week and Arthur smiled when Merlin called him by his first name again.

Merlin discovered, soon thereafter, he really, _really_ liked Arthur's smile.

+++

"Dr. Pendragon is my father," Arthur explained over another Monday sushi lunch after they'd gone through the mid-terms Merlin had graded the weekend before, "though, he's still in his deanship, so I suppose he doesn't get called 'doctor' that often lately, but..."

Merlin paused, avocado roll half-way to his mouth. "The dean is your father?"

Arthur replied with one of his special expressions of disbelief that Merlin was certain he cultivated special to use on Merlin. "Please, don't tell me you hadn't worked that out on your own before now."

"I guess I never really thought about it." For the most part, Merlin tried to avoid thinking about Uther Pendragon, Dean of Arts &amp; Sciences. The man was fucking scary. He was able to loom over you even when he was sitting and you were being introduced by your advisor as one of the English department's teaching fellows. Merlin shuddered inside at the memory and looked up to watch Arthur drink some of his green tea.

"Because Pendragon is such a popular name these days."

"Because you're not really similar."

The expression on Arthur's face softened to a thoughtful smile. "Interesting."

Shrugging, Merlin waited until Arthur attacked the spicy salmon roll of which he was so fond to glance at him again. Sure, Arthur could be intimidating and Merlin suspected half his students were too intimidated by him to show up at office hours unless summoned. But he wasn't really scary. He was sort of stern and exacting, and he got pissed off when students did things like text in class or forget their books, and his syllabus stated clearly that late papers wouldn't be accepted, and he tended to glare a lot when Merlin was late for meetings or photocopied things the wrong way round, but he wasn't _scary_. It was best to avoid him when he was being pratly since he didn't tend to stay that way for long and got over what annoyed him quickly enough.

"Once we get through these exams, did you want me to look at your thesis draft again? Your love for Coleridge continues to mystify me, but I can't send you out into the world with your footnotes in the condition they were last time I looked at it."

"Oh, yeah, that would be helpful. Not that Gaius isn't helpful, but he's always so busy, and I'm not even sure he's had a chance to look at my last draft." Merlin prodded at a bit of stray avocado. "You're... you're not too busy? I know you have about a million papers to grade."

"Not too busy. Just don't bring me something that resembles tripe instead of literary criticism." Arthur looked severe for a moment, then smiled in a way that made his eyes brighten and in a way that Merlin suspected most of his students never saw.

And even though he could be concerned and helpful and met with students to talk about multiple paper drafts, it was absolutely not part of his job to read two drafts of Merlin's master's thesis because Merlin was upset with it.

Arthur was _like that_.

He was also incredibly intelligent. For all he claimed to not know about the Romantics or Victorians, Merlin found himself loving to listen to his lectures during the Brit Lit II course. Watching Arthur teach was sort of... amazing. He was dynamic and animated, moving around the classroom, calling on students, asking them questions, and answering their questions without letting them get lazy in their thinking.

And Merlin was incredibly, irrefutably crushing on Arthur. Which, he supposed, explained why he liked watching Arthur so much. Watching him teach, and eat sushi, and drink coffee in the common room, and frown at his computer when he was reading his email. He wasn't sure having a crush on a professor who wasn't really his professor explained the warm swell of emotion he got whenever Arthur smiled at him or touched him on the arm, but it was a better explanation than having to cope with the idea that he might have feelings deeper than crush-like ones.

Because that would be completely inappropriate. _Completely_, Merlin reminded himself, and absolutely did not return the gesture when Arthur nudged his foot against Merlin's under the able and asked why Merlin had gone so quiet.

"Come on. You have a lesson to plan for next Thursday."

"What, me?"

"I'm off to a conference, so Hardy is all yours."

It turned out the semester of misery was good for something after all.

+++

Eight hours before he had to leave for the airport, Arthur sat in his office and stared at his computer screen, convinced that one really could read too many essays on both Bentham's and Foucault's panopticon and that he'd reached said limit about fifteen papers ago. Either all the English 1 papers did sound the same or his brain had ceased higher thought processes. It was hard to tell at this point, between the way his eyes burned and the headache that was setting in behind them.

The first time he heard the knock at the door, Arthur ignored it. As he did the second time. The third time he decided it might be important, though God only knew who'd bother coming to the English department that time of night, and pulled himself away from the desk to answer the knock.

"Oh. You are still around." Merlin. That's who would be in the English department at ten o'clock at night, wearing faded jeans, a black hoodie, and a concerned frown. "Here."

"Unspilled coffee?"

"Your favorite kind."

Arthur couldn't argue with that. It was also hot, with plenty of milk and no sugar, which really was his favorite sort of coffee.

"Now, I'm pretty sure that's the shirt and tie you had on to teach your classes this morning, which means you've been here for what? Twelve hours?" Merlin stood in the doorway while Arthur took a long drink of the coffee, then slipped into the room when all Arthur did was shrug dismissively in reply and went to sit back down at his desk. "You should get some rest."

"Do you..." Arthur started to ask Merlin if he talked to all his professors that way, but realized, half-way through the sentence, that he didn't want to know. He didn't want to know at all what sort of relationship Merlin had with his other professors, with his advisor, with the teacher he might've had a crush on when he first decided he ought to be an English major. "That's rather hypocritical of you, since you're here in the middle of the night. Besides, I had two faculty meetings today, no need to go home."

"Right, well, I didn't get up at dark o'clock to go running or anything insane like that. Plus, I usually work here at night. It's quiet." Merlin shuffled his feet, leaned against the side of Arthur's desk and rubbed the back of his neck so that his hair got mussed up and stuck out at odd angles.

Arthur watched him, drinking his coffee, and did the mental-math that he found himself doing way too often that told him that he was probably five or six years older than Merlin. Only five or six years, and his mind felt a little delirious with lack of sleep at the thought, and with the way he couldn't help but notice how Merlin's slim, pale fingers (not covered in green ink or any sort of ink tonight) curved around the edge of his desk.

"You finished your lesson plan for tomorrow?" Arthur asked, and the words felt heavy and strange in his mouth.

Merlin nodded. "And I'll put those reading on reserve for you. D'you want the other stuff scanned? For your freshmen?"

"You're not the TA for those classes, too."

"I'll take care of it."

Good god. Were they really having this conversation? Were they really talking about reserve readings when all Arthur could think about, the only thing his mind could really focus on were the the curve of Merlin's fingers and the angle of his wrist, the brief touch he gave Arthur's shoulder, and the way he leaned back against the desk as if he spent as much time in this office as Arthur did.

Maybe he did. He'd certainly been spending a lot of time there, especially in the last couple weeks, when he brought Arthur coffee that he managed to not spill more than half of the time; when he came to Arthur for help with his thesis and his Chaucer seminar; and when he reassured Arthur countless times that, contrary to appearance, most of his students weren't technically brain-dead.

He sighed so quietly when Arthur's thumb brushed against his knuckles that Arthur was sure he'd heard both desire and relief in the sound. He kept stroking until Merlin's fingers uncurled from the desk edge and tangled themselves up with Arthur's. For a second, Merlin looked incredibly young and bashful, an uncertain smile on his lips and his eyes almost innocently wide. A moment later, however, he tugged Arthur up out of chair so that they were standing close enough that Arthur could feel the warmth of Merlin's body against his and could see how Merlin's eyes had gone from wide and innocent to dark and beautiful.

His one hand still holding Merlin's, Arthur reached up with the other to touch Merlin's face, to brush the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone, then over his bottom lip, stroking again and again when the action made Merlin's breath catch and then gust, warm and damp, over Arthur's hand.

"This... is probably wrong."

"Completely inappropriate," Merlin agreed and slipped his tongue between Arthur's lips.

The kiss was long and sweet, leaving Arthur breathless and dizzy, and, though he'd tell himself during the flight later on that it had been lack of sleep that made him feel this way, kissing Merlin and feeling Merlin's fingers slip through his hair left Arthur strangely, deliriously happy.

+++

"Will, I'm doomed."

On the other end of the phone line, Merlin could hear Will typing on his computer and rifling through papers. "Your thesis will be fine..."

"It's not my thesis. This time."

"Hm." Will was quiet for a second, then sighed. "All right. What's his name?"

"How... you don't even know that's what it is."

"Oh, please."

For somebody who had been both his friend and lover for less than a year, Will knew Merlin too well, Merlin decided then and there.

"Well?"

"... Arthur."

"You're dating somebody named _Arthur_? He's probably a jerk."

"He's not. Not really, anyway. And we're not. Dating."

"Okay, so you're sleeping with somebody named _Arthur_. How's that going? Do you say his name in moments of passion?"

"I hate you. Why did I ever think I liked you."

"Yeah, yeah. So, you're not dating or having sex. What are you doing with him?"

"Eating sushi. And having coffee, sometimes. And, um, other things."

"Right... and what sort of other things?"

"... and I TA one of his classes ..."

"Okay, didn't see that one coming."

+++

Because, see, Merlin didn't have a thing for teachers. Not really. Except, maybe, that History professor he'd had for an honors seminar in college, and that professor he'd had for his Romantic poetry class junior year. But two professorial crushes do not constitute a thing. And it's not like he ever shared those past crushes with anyone, so Will had no basis whatsoever for claiming that Merlin had some sort of weird kinky teacher thing.

Except. Right. He definitely had a _thing_ for Arthur and no part of Merlin didn't think that sex with Arthur, possibly during office hours, would be really, really good sex.

And, after the really, really good sex, Arthur would put his arms around him, and Merlin would know what he'd suspected for weeks: that their bodies would fit together in all the right places.

He wouldn't be sharing that fantasy with anyone else either. That was private.

+++

"Good morning! Morning, Merlin..."

Merlin turned from the wall of mailboxes at the touch of Arthur's hand on his back and waited until Arthur finished talking to the secretaries to speak with him. "Hey, Arthur. How was the conference?"

"Good, but it's also good to be home. Class went well, I trust? I'm sure you had no problems."

"Yeah, actually, it did. I've got the attendance sheet for you, and maybe we can talk about it later?"

"Of course." He'd already taught his morning classes and Arthur had the sleeves to his shirt rolled up and tie loosened. He also, Merlin noticed, smiled incredibly warmly when he glanced up to see Merlin still standing next to him and the smile remained as they walked out of the department office together. "Why don't we meet after your seminar tonight instead of for lunch today?"

"Tonight?"

Arthur nodded. "Come up to my office."

Apparently, after kissing him, Arthur wanted to kill him with anticipation. Merlin spent most of his afternoon pretending to read Chaucer, and then spent most of his Chaucer seminar pretending that he'd done the reading. By the time class finished, he was hungry, nervous, and approximately three times more apt to drop things than normal.

Having dinner with Arthur turned out to be as easygoing and enjoyable as lunch. They went out for Greek food, Arthur brought beer for the both of them, and he spent a good amount of the time listening to Merlin talk about how his teaching day went.

"I've been thinking," Merlin started, when they were back in Arthur's office, the door shut and locked behind them, ready to give Arthur an out from all this, from the warm smiles and the warmer touches and possible impending doom.

"So have I." Arthur's fingertips grazed the side of Merlin's face and stroked over Merlin's jawline when he looked down. "I've been thinking about you. All weekend."

"Oh."

"Oh, yes." There was something so incredibly hopeful and fragile about the look in Arthur's eyes, his fingers still stroking Merlin's face, that Merlin knew he'd have to make the choice for both them.

And he did. He chose what was probably rather, if not completely, inappropriate, and he chose to kiss Arthur first, and he chose to let Arthur keep kissing him, careful, close, and desperate.

He kept kissing Merlin, moving his mouth to Merlin's cheek, then his neck, lips warm and eager against Merlin's skin. Arthur whispered something against Merlin's ear, indistinct and affectionate, and Merlin laughed at the way it tickled and the way he could feel Arthur smile against him before he kissed Merlin again.

"Ssh, shh... shouldn't even be here," Arthur muttered against Merlin's lips, "my student..."

"Not really your student," Merlin reminded him, then added in a softer voice, "Professor..."

And that was enough to make Arthur kiss him more forcefully and to send such heat and arousal through Merlin that he was hard. Hard and needy, his hips arching to press to Arthur's and rub up against him. The whimper he gave didn't seem to be enough to convince Arthur to move against him in return, or, not in the way Merlin wanted him to. Instead, he continued his exploration of Merlin's lips and neck and the sensitive skin at the corner of his jaw, his erection brushing against Merlin's.

It wasn't until Merlin was able to put some space between their bodies, both of them panting and flushed, that he could move the palms of his hands down Arthur's now wrinkled oxford shirt, down to his belt and trousers, down to press one hand to Arthur's cock. For a few seconds, Merlin didn't move, relishing the hard, heavy weight against his hand and the rough, needy noises Arthur was making.

Merlin held the flat of his palm to Arthur for a few more seconds, moved his hand in the smallest, firmest movement he could manage, and his breath caught at the shudder that went all the way through Arthur.

"That?"

"Yeah, oh god... Your hands."

Arthur shuddered again, buried his face in Merlin's shoulder, and walked the both of them a few steps until he could shove Merlin against his desk. Merlin scrabbled at the edge with one hand, pushing aside a few papers, and gripped it with both hands at another push from Arthur. Who, breathing raggedly and fumbling with warm fingers, covered Merlin's mouth with his own and undid the button fly on Merlin's jeans.

They were kissing in a graceless manner now, open-mouthed, wet kisses, tongues sliding over lips and teeth. Arthur stroked the damp spot of pre-come on Merlin's shorts until Merlin thought he might come and then collapse against Arthur from the too gentle, too delicate touch. At least, until he heard Arthur unbuckle and unzip his own trousers and felt the same press of heavy, hard arousal against his own cock.

Then, more kissing, and one of Arthur's hands braced against the desk and the other wrapped around both of their erections. Pushed up against the desk, all Merlin could do was arch his hips up and up into Arthur's hand, whimper against his lips, and try and arch up even closer, for more friction, for more of what Arthur was already giving him.

He came, suddenly, with a cry he muffled into silence into the side of Arthur's neck, and as his orgasm finished, Merlin uncurled one hand from the edge of the desk and rested it next to Arthur's. Merlin fingered the back of his hand and wrist first, petting lightly, and nudged Arthur to look up at him.

"There, I'll take care of you," he whispered, and knew that _yes_, yes he would, with late night coffee and photocopied readings and reminders to make sure Arthur rested and he would take care of Arthur in so many ways for years and years.

Arthur shuddered again, and he didn't make any sound, but his body trembled and his breath caught in his throat sharply at the touch of Merlin's fingers on tip of his cock. His hand guided Merlin's hand for the first few strokes, but Arthur let Merlin bring him off, his body taut and his face buried in Merlin's shoulder again.

Quiet, still, and sticky for a while after that, Arthur pulled away only to bring Merlin into his arms and to stroke his hair. "Better next time... I'll take you home. You deserve that."

Merlin touched his forehead to Arthur's, damp skin and damp lips against each other. "But this... this was good. So good, Arthur."

"Merlin," Arthur said his name in a low, deep, slow voice, nuzzled against Merlin's ear, and held him near and tight, their bodies fitting against each other, as Merlin had known they would, in quite the right way.


End file.
